Move Towards
by AstaLaila
Summary: Sometimes you just...need that. The that you won't mention. And don't need to. WJ


Woody opened up his door to see her standing there

Woody opened up his door to see her standing there. Her hair was a little unkempt from the humid weather, and what may have been the rain he heard as he fell asleep.

"I…." Her voice cracked and faltered for a moment, drawing a wry smile from her taut mouth. Her hand drew across her face as if trying to gather her words towards her mouth.

"I need you." She said it simply, like admitting something trivial, like burning toast, or drinking the last of the milk. God, that made it even better. Maybe better wasn't the word for how Woody felt. It was just that this felt more trustworthy and honest than any declaration or display. He stepped away from the door and let her into the apartment.

The next movements were fluid and unconsciously well matched. She peeled off her coat, hanging it off a kitchen stool, catching the towel Woody threw from the hall closet. She took off her shoes, still standing on the carpet near the door, and toweled her hair drier and into a more unmanageable mess. Woody's steady foot falls led into what she knew was his bedroom. The slide of wooden drawers and the clap shut preceded his arrival with a t-shirt and pajamas.

He pressed the clothes into her arms and said "Use the bathroom down the hall. Just hang your stuff over the side of the tub." He heard the light patter of her wet socks on his floor. The shower started up as he put mugs into the dishwasher. The water swashed around inside as he turned off the lights. Just the line under the bathroom door and the reading lamp beside his bed set out islands of glowing shapes.

He knocked on the door of the bathroom.

"I'll be in my room Jo."

She turned off the light before she opened the door, but he could still see steam that slipped into the colder hallway. The light from beside him highlighted her in half shapes. Her movement was more fluid that she had any right to be. She had said once that she hated being in other people's bedrooms. Too personal. Too many places to misstep onto something she had no right to. But she dropped a towel next to his in the hamper, kicking the rug back into its proper position from where the corner had flipped up. She sat down on the mattress and twisted her damp hair into a controlled braid. Her knees then tucked up and she tugged the sheets free to pull over herself.

Jordan was under both the sheet and blankets on the bed. She could have kept the separation up with a layer of cotton. It was too late for that. She had told him, learned herself that she needed him. Not to solve a mystery or cover her ass. Just needed him there. It was too late to hide now. The bedding held her in from running.

Woody folded his book onto his chest as she slid under the covers. All the way under. He looked at her.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." She responded. He smiled at her, and turned back to his book. Jordan lay for a moment, before shifting, rolling onto her side and stomach. Her forehead rested against the point of his shoulder, giving him a burst of warmth under his breastbone. Their knees were close enough to feel the energy between the bodies without touching. Woody felt her sigh and with a soft shift she found her comfort. One hand slipped under the Green Bay Packers t-shirt he had on, curling along the bottom of his ribcage, her thumb lying along the centerline of his chest. He kept reading, surprised that he could still concentrate, and one hand covered over hers through the thinness of his shirt.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see she wasn't asleep, just laying with her eyes cast down, thinking probably, or maybe not at all. As he finished the last page of the chapter, he used his free hand to fold the corner of the page. The book closed and he put it down on the side table. At the same time he reached his hand to turn the lights off, and turned his face to her. He pressed his lips to her cheek, and the light disappeared with a click.

"Night." She shifted again, though her hand remained along the lines of his chest. He felt the soft, warm pressure of her own kiss against his shoulder. He couldn't see or feel it, but he knew that her eyes closed then.

They fell asleep.


End file.
